Condensed Milk
by anarchist.itch
Summary: Inspired by Sarah's Child 1 in Spencer-Nyle series: She was in love with the man she shouldn't be in love with and his wife - her best-friend was dead. His kid. Who was she kidding? She wasn't his Astoria. She was a mess.
1. Chapter 1

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She was obsessing over the Belay file over lunch when she received the news. She had feeling-so dark and pungent, her rich meal of _carne guisada_ fell heavily against her stomach. Leaving her tongue with a heavy coat of dust no matter how many swigs of Cabernet Sauvignon she swallowed, her throat felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper with it raw. She had gone to her favorite Gaelic restaurant, _Flor de Cerdeira,_ the host already recognizing the heroine, seating her in her usual seat away from the windows and her back to the wall. All where she can see who entered and left the premises. She had suffered through too much to be _stupid_ enough to let someone sneak on her now.

They brought her her meal without taking her order- it's Thursday and it was raining harshly therefore Ms. Hermione Granger will order the beef stew and the richest wine (to the taste, but can also be stated the most expensive.) on the menu. She had the same server, the same man who everyday gave her a tight-lipped smile, his eyes glancing warily at the photos laid out before her. Her eyes, the color of wet mud, staring harshly at the notes and the images of blood and mutilated bodies of men, women, and children for Merlin's sake. Hermione Granger was respected and dining at this fine establishment despite it being known to refuse Muggleborns any type of service before the war, now deeply respected the quiet and reserved witch.

She didn't do so well with change now after the war.

But she had changed for the better if that counted. She was doing well. She was Dr. Hermione Granger, Head Psychiatric for The Criminally and Mentally Insane under the Ministry. Everyone wanted her to study the Death Eaters' file who landed on their desk. She had no one to go home to-even Crookshanks died from complications of being half-kneazle. So she stained her fingers and tainted her mind even more than what it was. Reading and obsessing (that's a harsh word-trying to understand is much better) over the files of the people responsible for the decades long wretched war. A war that caused so many deaths. A war that caused her best friend to throw himself into work and trying to find the end of the bottle and another to be wary of guests in his very own home or near his children

She was damaged. They all were.

He had placed the parchment over her file, ignoring the grunt of disapproval from the witch, a sharp glare at Donnach who equally returned it. His deep voice was a jolt to her skull and she winced. She didn't do well with loud. Loud voices and crowded streets. Not anymore. He watched as her brows furrowed and he nodded at the parchment before gliding away.

Hermione glanced up, a sweep amongst the other luncheons had her opening the letter. Gently prying it apart:

 _HG,_

 _There was an attack against my home. A breach. Astoria has died quickly. Scorpius is at St. Mungos critically ill. Hurry._

 _dM._

Like she said.

She had a bad feeling.

* * *

She was 26 –almost 30-and had seen more violence and death then should be considered _healthy_. In her line of work, she knew healthy was a misused term. The war screwed them all to hell to the pits of Tartarus and back. No one in this generation was remotely healthy- or normal. They were abnormal and the scars that graced their body and minds were a sign.

She was still an emotional wreck. Her hair was in a loose bun and her eyes were now the color of fire whiskey- a deep amber hue. Tears still cascaded down her cheeks, wetting her shirt as she stood in the foyer holding a scalding tray of casserole Hermione knew Draco liked. The same foyer where she would hug and swing the little Malfoy, where she would kiss her closest friend's smooth cheek and they would trash talk anything and anyone for the hell of it. Despite burying her six year old godson and his pregnant mother five months ago….she still cried.

 _Six years old._

How many sick fucks can this world actually hold? Again, with her line of work, this question shouldn't have even remotely touched her mind.

She handed the veal casserole to one of Draco's elf (She had given up on S.P.E.W when she was viciously threatened by one of Malfoy's senior elf to give up on ridiculous notions of trying to _save everything_ or he would beat her unconscious with a stick _)_ and slowly walked towards the study. Her heart racing at the thought of the torn up blond. He has yet to return to his desk at the Auror dept., she had his caseload sent to him, hoping he'd somewhat appreciate the gesture, but she received a curt response and that was it.

That was two months ago.

As she walked down the hallway of Malfoy Manor, Hermione couldn't help but think of the irony of where she was now walking down. The lighting was still bright and the wallpaper was still its navy blue and soft grey that Astoria had whisked on last spring. She had wondered briefly if it had gone back to its original coloring and mute lighting like Narcissa had before Astoria became _the_ Mrs. Malfoy. Back to the succumbing darkness that the Manor was known for.

The death and the screams that had plagued and placed roots here since the start of Voldemort's reign. The press would probably think Ron would go ballistics for the cold heroine with the pale skin and purple under eyes to be walking past the room where she was tortured and scarred. In reality Ron would have shrugged and hoped Hermione didn't drag herself all bloodied and tattered to his home and have his twins witness how cruel the world could be. How vile and destructive it really is. Hoped she stayed where she was tortured or go to Harry's home in Godric's Hollow. Just away from the little bubble he had for Hugo and Rose.

Hermione swallowed back the lump in her throat-well tried to since her efforts were futile-it as like when she was eight and was in a hurry to catch the bus before it left her and she swallowed a hard-boiled quail egg without chewing. She had coughed until her father slapped her on her back. She would never forget the sensation of not being able to open her throat well enough. Lifting her hand, she knocked on the deep mahogany wood. The knock echoed loudly amongst the empty hallway

Silence always irked her.

Silence _comforted_ her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all for favoriting/following this story! Means so much.**

 **I am not following the exact plot of Sarah's Child.**

 **These characters have been through a war since they were 11, they are not going to live sane and normal lives (for this chapterlet at least).**

 **Im only taking small sub-plots here and there!**

 **njoy**

 **-Gris.**

* * *

He was pissed drunk.

That much he knew. His supply of Firewhisky has dwindled since that fateful day-that fateful fucking day they retaliated. _Astoria and Scorpius_. She didn't suffer-an instant Avada Kedavra and she was staring lifelessly at the entrance door. His son. His tiny little boy, they crucio'd him until his own mind broke down and his organs shut down. He was still surrounded by his favorite train set George had sent him for his birthday with a flying card. Promises to send his children to the Manor to play. _Peter Pan_ opened to the images of the second star to the North Star _._ Fucking Grange and her muggle contraptions. Fucking Granger and making his son love every muggle artifact-taking him to muggle London and showing him that both worlds unite and are equal.

He missed his son so fucking much. He missed walking up the stairs and seeing Astoria humming to his son to sleep with those damn muggle lullabies. Missed having a warm body to sleep with. He missed his family.

 _"Feelings were a signed warrant for an easy death."_

Draco stared at Granger, his eyes studying the brunette, taking in her form. He can tell he made her uncomfortable. He did not care, she was Granger and just that. He watched her bottom lip disappear between her two teeth. Granger did have a horrible habit of chewing her lip. When Draco had first noticed, Astoria was angry at him for taking a case that will lead him to Ireland (Death Eaters were still at large, he had to catch them. He just had to)-Scorpius had barely hit two and he had missed his birthday because of the month long trials- he was writing notes and studying the file of his current case when Granger had plopped down next to him at the dining room table. Her very own workload making a muffled thud that somewhat echoed in the large room. Meeting her eyes, he eyed her lip being gnawed she gave him the same tight lipped smile as she gave everyone. The same one that made him falter in his words the first time he received it. Then Draco realized Granger didn't _really_ smile. It never reached her eyes. Her eyes did not have the same wrinkles at the corner of her eyes like she did during Hogwarts. Before death was around every corner and you had to be wary of to trust with the secrets that made home in your brain.

 _"Feelings were a signed warrant for an easy death."_

His father's words echoed in his mind as he took another swig of firewhisky, his stomach turning at the burning sensation before calming down. He stood from his armchair that was his fathers before him and his grandfather's before him and so on and so forth. Allestr always keeping furniture intact. Salazar bless that old elf.

Granger tilted her head to the side before she lifted her legs to her chest, the plush cushions comforting her somewhat. She was lost in her mind. Draco knew. She had that faraway look, the same one he had when a certain sound or smell or someone's touch took him back to his childhood. He wouldn't know how to remove himself from those memories, no matter the words his wife would whisper in encouragement, the memories still plagued him like sticky glue, never leaving always with the sticky residue.

The same faraway look he seen Potter and George and bloody Luna and everyone who fought in _goddamn war._ Draco recognized it so well.

"Gran..ger."

Draco watched her dull eyes of dark colored rum look at him, watching them in understanding that Draco was in fact very much in pain, just like she was, "You should sit back down. You'll fall flat on your face at the rate you've been drinking."

His laugh echoed, harsh and raw against his throat.

It irritated her ears.

He saw her visibly flinch.

"Come here." She stood, her pencil skirt now wrinkled along with her silk blouse, taking his hand she started heading towards the couch she had long ago transfigured.

"Have you always thought..you were better?"

His voice was by her ear and the snarl reverberating in her head. Draco watched her shoulders become even more stiff, watching as her eyes widen at his words. She wasn't innocent. She never was. She lost all her innocence in the war and the longing in her eyes when she watched Scorpius. She removed her palm from his, acting as if it was his skin that burned her.

"You're nobody Granger." Draco seized her throat, pulling her face towards his, knowing he was a whole head taller and she was on her tip toes, "You always sighed as if I as troublesome. As if I was the one doing the wrong. You don't think I didn't notice?"

He touched her lips, forcing his tongue in, exploring every ridge and crevice. Her guttural moan and her hands clutching his dress shirt like she was a wanton whore. He tightened his grip, hearing Granger wheeze, those moans now whimpers. She was damaged, she wasn't pure like his Astoria. She felt wrong.

With a shout he pushed her towards the door, "Get out! You fucking cunt! You're nothing compared to her-to me. You're nothing!"

He grabbed the last of the firewhisky aiming at her, a torn war cry filling the whole study. Her sharp cry never registering to him, tears clouding his eyes as he saw Granger scramble out the study, seeing her clutch her jaw.

He banged on his knees, screaming and shouting. Tears clouding his visions and his throat burning for air.

 _"Feelings were a signed warrant for an easy death."_

Well wasn't his father completely right.

* * *

She rehearsed her speech in her mind (although knowing the detailed and well supported speech she memorized, she really wasn't going to talk much.) but the memory of his lips on hers kept distracting her. And his insults and the shards of glasses that flew by her head too but mostly the feel of his lips. Now as she faced the Chief Warlock she sported a nice pink scar on her jaw.

His tongue was warm despite his cold demeanor and cold skin with his equally cold touch.

 _Nothing Granger.._

Hermione looked at Rebar and nodded her head when she saw him frown. _Listen_. This was hard. Why was this so hard? Rebar cleared his throat, peering at Hermione over his spectacles; her hair was loose amongst her shoulders, no longer the thick ringlets of curls Astoria had taught her to magic on herself. They were back to their unmanageable thick bushiness. She had three oval bruises on the pale column of her neck. Frowning he wonder who dared bruised the worn down woman, or if the screams plagued her again.

"Ms. Granger, I am not one to meddle with someone else's affair, but I worry. You are my best-and I mean best- of what any department have seen in decades. Although, I must ask...what happened to you?"

Merlin and anything and everything help her. Everyone past her age has asked that question to her since she walked inside the walls of the Ministry. Pansy had stared at the bruises before meeting her eyes and had stated that she was alive before she turned on her loafer and walked towards the floo.

Everyone was so _bloody nosy_.

Hermione sat up straighter, almost hurting her spine from the unnatural position. She didn't like to stand up straight as she was taught by her mother any longer. She liked to cave in. She wanted to know if harm were to come to her, they'll be minimum damage. Hermione knew if her mother were to remember her she would smack the youngest Granger while brushing her hair back behind her ear before crooning, "A lady never hunches. If you to hunch, do it in privacy."

She missed her mum.

Crossing her legs, Hermione concentrated on a hole on her leggings before steeling herself. She looked up and meet the deep blue eyes of the old man, "Henry Belay. I know he has no visitors unless you're his lawyer or the Auror in charge of the case, but I want to speak to him." She arched a brow at him, watching his face contort to confusion and sudden understanding. He respected Hermione, they worked closely over the years since she started as a psychiatric medi-witch when she was 20. Seven years later and he still saw the witch daily. Her testimony's and research viable towards the cases she poured her soul on.

Sighing, he nodded, "Belay is a monstrous man, Hermione. He...grew up with Riddle, he helped plan attacks against muggle-borns and muggles and anyone who didn't agree with their cause. What makes you think if you were to speak to him, he would talk?"

Hermione stood, her medical robes billowing to place, "Because Chief Warlock Rebar, I have something in common with him."

Rebar stood, watching the young witch exit his office. He raised his voice an octave, "Now, Ms. Granger. May I ask what that is?"

He never recieved an answer.

Leaving his office, throwing him the same tight lipped smile she gave everyone,Hermione ignored his question (if Rebar didn't respect her and her mind, she probably would have been fired immediately for such action). She sighed as she looked up at the intricate ceiling of the Law and Justice of Wizardry floor of the Ministry. Henry Belay. Astoria's and Scorpius murderer. The man with the shaven face and the sharp jaw, the man with the deep green eyes. The man who raped for the jest and killed because of boredom. As much as she wanted to ignore it, they did have something in common. Something she wish she didn't; that didn't plague her dreams and made question what it meant exactly to be one of the wizarding world's heros.

 _We both questioned what we fought for._


	3. Chapter 3

_HG,_

 _I've heard you got Belay. We need to talk._

 _dM_

She had ignored his letter. No one ignored him, he was fucking Draco. A Malfoy nonetheless. Anyone who ignored him had hell to pay. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed heavily. He need a drink, but the latest shipment by Ogden's has yet to arrive at his door. Draco should really threaten to sue if it didn't arrive. His mouth tasted as if someone had cursed him with a _Slugulus Eructo_. Draco was already feeling the sweats coming on.

Bloody fucking maggots he needed a drink.

He paced his office, his stomach turning when he glanced at the broken shards of glass by the door.

He was idiot. He was an exceptionally smart man who made bad choices. Really bad fucking choices

Bloody hell, what did he do?

What did he do?

"Allestr!" A loud pop resonated across the study, Draco flinched, blinking raidly, hoping the memories trap him at the moment.

He glance at the elf, a blank look on his face as he stared at his master.

"Where does she spend her lunch evenings?

Allestr sighed, taking in the bloodshot eyes and the frown lines. He had raised him, teaching him the studies of Pureblood supremacy and how to pronounce the proper incantation of spells. Taught him dark runes and spells. Taught him how to hide his feelings alongside his father. He had taught the previous three Malfoy heirs; treating them as if they were his own despite his offspring being scattered to the family Blacks and Greengrass. Giving them an ear tug and telling them the rules of how to be a proper elf.

 _What they say goes._

 _Find a loop._

 _What you think does not matter unless they ask._

"Have you ever heard of Flor de Cerdeira _?_

Of course Draco has heard of it. It had been one of his father's go to place for board meetings. He had attended one once when he had turned 15, alcohol was flowing and the wives were all prettied up, showcasing who was the richest Pureblood of them all. Talk of _mudbloods_ and how they dirtied everything they touched were all the rage. When he had first taken Astoria there, she had hit his shoulder gently before she dragged (really he let her, he could've easily stopped and Astoria would have been a bouncing ball) to a rambunctious diner near but not really _near_ Knockturn Alley. It was the first time he was laughing out loud with his then fiancé.

What the bloody hell was Granger doing there?

* * *

Hermione looked at her notes, the timeline completely impeccable and in order. It made the all-knowing swot in her gleam with pride. Hermione tapped the quill against the inkwell, watching the dark obsidian ink fall into the jar, breaking the surface with each drop. She looked up from it when Donnach refilled her glass Vermentino, silently watching the woman that came in his restaurant every day for lunch.

"There is someone here for you, ma'am. I believe you want to take it?"

Hermione sighed, she already knew who it was. She had been ignoring him all week, since the _incident_. She had tried to forget it. Forget that she didn't wake up in the middle night imagining his hands running up her legs, grabbing her hips, kissing her. Running his tongue along her jaw. She wanted to forget but of course Draco Malfoy made it hard.

He had made it hard ever since she had been offered to evaluate a Death Eater who claimed he was under the Imperius Curse, claiming he was innocent. Draco was the head Auror. They had stayed late in the evenings, wondering how to go about with him, sometimes she would take him to her London flat and they would order take-out of Chinese or if he wanted to bug her, make one of his elves cook for them. They stayed for three months, she was seeing a potions apprentice from Spain (he broke it off with her when he realized, having a heroine was much harder work) and Draco was just seeing Astoria here and there. She had fallen in love with him and his calculating moods. Maybe love was a strong word when it came to man like Draco. She just really like _liked_ him. Then after they won the trial, Hermione confusing the man with her reverse psychological questions, they had gone out to celebrate at a muggle pub. (Being famous sucked)

She met Astoria for the first time and Hermione realized just how out of her league she was really. She was stunning. Her brown hair pin straight until it reached the ends, forming beautiful curls, the dress was a pale pink that brought out her fair skin. Astoria's dark blue eyes gleamed with nothing but hope and awe. She was in the presence of _the_ Hermione Jean Granger. They had become fast friends. Faster friends than she and Ginny were currently. (Ginevra currently a seeker for the Holyhead Harpies and avoided Britain with a passion). Hermione had helped pick Astoria's wedding dress, she had help her hair when the morning sickness was overwhelming, and they would go to galas and complain and nitpick every detail.

And she realized she was a horrible person to look at Draco like he was a tall glass of water and she was parched. She admired the way he would hold Scorpius, crooning in his ear about how he was a great son and how he would do wonders. She had craved that. Before Astoria she wanted to carry his heir before she snapped her mind out of the idea. She wanted to make love to Draco and have Draco take her the way Astoria would confess to her after a couple drinks.

 _He is really good Hermione. He's fantastic. The things he can do with his tongue. Oh!_

She's going to hell.

Looking at Donnach, she nodded her head. She took out her wand, whisking it over the table she watched as her quill cleaned it self and the papers shuffled back in order before disappearing into her briefcase. She leaned back into her seat, raising her glass of wine to her lips, letting the sweetness of it be soaked by her tongue before she relished the bitterness. Hermione watched as Donnach lead him to her table. Draco made her way to her, he was clean. Immaculate. Impeccable just like her notes and that bloody turned her on more than anything. Letting out a silent groan of frustration, she rose an eyebrow as Draco sat across her. Donnach instantly pouring a glass of deep crimson wine, placing the glass in front of him, "The usual."

They stayed silent.

Her lips tingled with the memory and her jaw throbbed, the scar now gone, thanks to a salve Luna had given her. Hermione avoided his eyes. They were even colder now since the death of his remaining family (Lucius was very much alive although he may be in Paris or Africa tending the family apothecaries, while Narcissa was probably frolicking in Afghanistan). She cleared her throat. The friendship they had built was carefully woven, years of hatred and blood, and war had made them cautious. Now? That carefully woven friendship had a bit too many tears to Hermione's liking.

Letting their plates appear in front of them, their combine aroma heavenly to her nose, her baked salmon and cream sauce (it was Saturday; it was windy but sunny outside) and Draco's filet mignon beautifully done.

"Aged Chianti?" Her words were barely a whisper, but Draco heard her as if she was shouting. He had gotten used to her soft-spoken sentences.

He picked up his glass swirling it before he took a small sip, "Yes. My father has always preferred aged wines, it just stuck with me. How do you know?"

Taking a bite of her salmon. She chewed slowly, thinking over her answer, "My mother and father were wine fanatics. They would take me to wine tasting festivals out in the vineyards and they would let me try and taught me the differences."

"Vermentino."

She looked into Draco's eyes, his grey eyes meeting her mud colored ones. Silence fell over them, blanketing them, almost like a cocoon, "You're not here for a social visit. What exactly did you want?"

Draco snorted, "Are you ever so blunt, Granger? Although you are correct. You have his case." He watched as Granger's eyes dropped to her plate, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth once again, "Look, Granger. He killed my wife and son. He...Scorpius did not get to live to get his first kiss. To go to Hogwarts, and ride a real broomstick. He would never learn to shave," his voice cracked, "He would _never_ know what love is."

Hermione blinked the tears away. Her little godson. She remembered seeing him on the hospital bed, it seemed like it engulfed his small body. His skin ashen, medi-nurses doing everything they could before they declared him brain dead with multi-system organ failure. Hermione laid next to him on the bed, cradling his head to her chest. She had brushed his hair back gently, letting her tears land on her cheeks. Telling him he was a brave boy and that they loved him. Draco was silent on the other side. Eyes red and wet with grief. She had started to tell the story of Peter Pan that it was okay for him to go to the star that he'll be in Neverland with the lost boys with his mother and Wendy. Pressing kisses to his forehead, Draco clutching his hand in both his big palms. When the head healer waved all the vitals keeping him breathing it had taken over an hour before he took his last breath. She had cried harder when she heard the flat line, hearing the last breath leave his body with a rattle. She had taken care of all the funeral grievances, Draco too busy in his study drinking and Hermione cleaning his vomit whispering in his ear hell be okay. Astoria and her son were buried together, many survivors of the war had gone and raised their wands in solitude for their fallen friend. The eldest Malfoy had clutched his son to his chest, letting his boy grasp his robes, screams of agony leaving him. Narcissa crying against Hermione's shoulder, watching Lucius comfort his son, words of encouragement being whispered into Draco's ear.

"He had his first kiss," Hermione gave Draco a sad smile, he saw the crinkles by her eyes, "Rose, despite her being a year older. He said he was going to marry her and if she didn't want to, he would wait."

Draco stood from his chair abruptly, their wines spilling over the rim. Hermione watched as he stormed out the restaurant. His robes billowing behind him.

Signaling at Donnach, she watched the wizard head her way with the check.

 _Draco..._

* * *

Hermione sat across Belay, he was bad-looking. As if he wasn't currently in Azkaban, she would have done a double take at the man, his eyes a clear green. Now his eyes were dull, a beard graced his jaw and his hair was in tangles. His clothes were in tatters, hanging limply against his previously strong now weakened frame. Despite the state he was currently in, the air of an aristocrat plagued her senses.

It almost choked her.

She crossed her legs under the metal table. Fixing the two folders in front of her, one was thick and filled to the brim, meanwhile, the second was thin. Visibly one up to two handfuls of sheets, "So Henry, you are one tough man to follow, your case took me months to fully analyze. It brings your pride that you have done so much damage." Placing her hand on the thickest folder, she gave him a soft smile, watching for any body movements.

 _He stood up straighter. Prideful_

"You smirk because I'm right, aren't I? More than 200 cases of sexual assault all lead by you, each and every one of them having psychological damages or just death," _cheek muscle, involuntary twitch. Right track._ , "It makes you feel all good inside, knowing there is a list of deaths that you are responsible for. From what I know, it makes you feel…all warm inside. Makes you swell if you catch my drift." She lowered her voice to a whisper, seeing his eyelids become hooded, a quick lick of his lips.

"Although Belay," She traced small circles on the thick folder, trailing her hand to the thinner one, "These are the only ones going onto your record, not even worthy of a Kiss. Tsk tsk. You must shame your Lord. You had felt to please him at every chance you got. Yet, he never noticed did he? You were just…Belay. One of his first followers who excelled in dark runes and magic. If Lestranage-"

"You stupid mudblood! Shut up! You know nothing of my Lord. That crusted bitch knew nothing. I knew him. We were great minds. I fucking lead those raids and laughed as they split the necks open of the men and children, raped the women until they were bleeding from every orifice. I am the fucking best."

Hermione blinked lazily at him, _flare of nostrils,_ "Did it anger him you had a flare of a temper? Mm? Hothead much, Mr. Belay. What much did you have to prove?"

She watched as he sighed, his shoulders tensing before fully relaxing, "Nothing. I was the bloody best."

"Well aren't you prideful." Hermione stood, grabbing the thin file, she smiled softly at Belay," So as I said, this goes onto your record, only I can make changes to it and the rest just, I believe excessive work, so just trash. Have a good day."

 _Tightening of jaw, eye nerve twitch, corner of lip down turned._

Hermione gathered the files before she stepped out the room, coming face to face with Harry, Pansy, Rebar and Draco.

Harry smirked at her, "So?"

She briefly made eye contact with Draco, thinking of the failure of a meal a month ago. He was finally put back to work. With the tug of the right strings and money, he was put on the Belay case much to Rebar's disapproval,

"He's a prideful man with a temper worse than Ron and a love for a man who was utterly monstrous. The fact I just insulted his very own manhood and did not give a single inch of a care bugged him. He's going to want to speak to me again, try and put me in my place.

"And if he doesn't?"

"They always do." Draco's voice filled the room, staring hard at the witch

 _They always fucking do._

* * *

Hope you enjoy this very long chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

She didn't know how it happened. They were talking, arguing on his part while she stayed quiet. She didn't really process his words. She was too tired. And hurt. Belay had requested to see Hermione after a week of complete silence from him. Hermione in turned had waited two more days to agitate him-showing him he wasn't in control. Some good that did. The moment she sat across from him, he had smirked at her. Giving Hermione a speech on how she shouldn't under-estimate him, he was of course Voldemort's best follower. Next thing Hermione realized was the burning under ribcage, her chest felt as if someone was sitting on her. She had stood up abruptly, the chair tittering dangerously before falling. The pain was unbearable, but her throat felt too constricted to form words. Hermione had opened her ropes, a squeak escaping her as her blouse was soaking up so much blood. She hasn't seen so much blood in person since the Battle of Hogwarts, even then now she only sees blood in her nightmares and in photos she studys. She had heard commotion and Belay's laugh-it sounded so melodic and deadly. Draco had grabbed her, ripping her shirt open, his hands on her ribs, probing. God it hurt. The air hitting her flesh made a wrangled cry leave her throat, the cold air making her skin hotter.

Draco was confused when Granger had stood up in a hurry, watching as she opened her robes in front of Belay. He was sure that if Granger resulted in a strip tease for the man to get some answers he would most likely go in and use an Unforgivable on one of them. Then he heard her gasp and he was in there, Belay's laugh echoing filling his senses. Potter right behind him, pushing Belay against the wall, his eyes trained on his childhood friend. Draco couldn't think when there was so much blood. Why was there so much blood? He ripped her shirt open and saw a laceration starting from under her breast and ending the side of her waist. Smaller cuts decorated around it, bleeding so much. Wandless magic. Non-verbal magic. Belay was fucking skilled. He's seen this curse, _Hiatus Segmenellis,_ his father had used it before. He had used it once, he never thrown up so much before. His mother holding his hand. Hermione clutched his Auror robes, her eyes wide and filled with tears, her mouth open and small little breaths escaping her. He had yelled at everyone, telling them to call an emergency medic team, before he looked into Hermione's eyes. _Don't talk Granger. You'll be fine. I promise._ He brushed her hair back, his fingers trailing her jawline. When she shut her eyes, he froze.

She was in an induced coma for a day in a half, the lacerations taking a while to heal. The blood always continuing to flow, never stopping. Harry crowded her side of her bed, Ron as well before he had to go and take care of his twins before they brought down the house. George and his wife Angelina brought in the tykes of their own before a nurse had to kick them out for being so loud. Hermione always looked out for him, to see if he will spontaneously walk through the door. He never visited her once, not even when she woke up and when she left St. Mungos. He saw her until she was in his study, watching him with her hooded eyes all silent. It angered him she was calm

 _He_ was angry.

Her whole side burned from the laceration Belay gave her (She now had nice healed pink scar to add her to her collection) and Draco was angry-livid. Screams of how were they supposed to get a full report on any future attacks if Belay didn't talk to her? And how Belay had shut her out and had injured her. He had yelled at her, saying things that made cringe and hug herself tighter.

 _"Hermione look,_ ' _One theory is that stimulation of the vagus nerve triggers an increase in oxytocin levels. The hugging and oxytocin release that comes with it can then have trickle-down effects throughout the body, causing a decrease in heart rate and a drop in the stress hormones' See? I told ya. You need to hug more."_

She had to repress a smile at the thought of Harry's voice. The irony of it all is Harry didn't hug unless it lead him in the bedroom to get shagged. Even then, he would always pin down his partner's arms so they wouldn't touch him. Blaise was a big talker and a _much_ appreciative person towards Harry because apparently, _"He takes control, Granger. Try it; dislodge the massive stick in your arse."_ She had blushed so hard in the atrium, she didn't even know which way to head, Blaise laughing loudly at her skittish form. She looked up at Draco who had stopped talking and was staring at her. His chest heaving with rapid succession.

"Are you…Are you _smiling_ , Granger?"

She snorted, "I almost died, if anything, I'm _allowed_ to laugh."

His groan of frustration reverberated and she had to suppress another smile before Draco hexed her. She studied him, clearing her throat, "I just wanted to see you. You know. I don't know why. Just…Yeah."

Hermione stood from the arm rest and started walking towards the door, her purse hitting her thigh. She looked at Draco a final time before she gave him her stupid famous tight lipped smile, her arm barely brushing against him she passed him. His arm shot out and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her closer to him. Draco leaned forward, letting his lips run across her hairline. She smelled like anti-septic and lavender.

"I'm cleaning out Scorpius room and Astoria's art room. If you want, you can go and choose stuff you want to keep. I just wanted you to know. I gave some stuff to Rose and Hugo as well as Neville's and George's kids. But I left the stuff you might want… just get the crap, Granger."

Her heart stilled. _Right._

"Okay."

* * *

She knew the way to Scorpius room by heart, having had babysat him multiple times. They would stay up and she would magic the solar system into his room and they would watch the mist of Saturn and the Sun and the Milky Way glow and radiate onto their skin. He always had a wonderful gleam in his eyes, the same grey as his father. He had a knack for astronomy.

She opened his bedroom door open slowly, almost bare. No longer was the train set taking up half the floor, Peter Pan was still on the same spot as it had been months ago. Bloody hell, her chest hurt. Hermione crouched, running her fingers on the open pages. Hermione looked at his drawer and saw the picture of herself and Scorpius. It was such a perfect day, she had taken him to an astronomy tower in muggle London, he was so excited-he was practically jumping. It was her sixth birthday present to him. A muggle had taken the photo of them next to a large microscope. He smiled so big and her heart soared for the little boy. Grabbing the book, Hermione stood-waving her finger towards the photo, watching as it slowly made her way towards her.

She knew exactly what she wanted.

* * *

Draco was packing some of Astoria's clothes to send to Daphne, he was quiet and face grim when Hermione had found him. He was folding one of the many muggle dresses that Granger had bought for her. White with different roses and lilies-bright in their color- stood against the cotton material.

She loved that dress.

"Draco?"

He looked up to see Granger by the door to his and his late wife's bedroom. He hadn't stepped foot in it until the night before Astoria and Scorpius were murdered. He couldn't stand being in the room, her perfume penetrated his senses and it made the loss much more worse to handle. He placed the dress before going to Astoria's vanity, raising her favorite Dutch perfume to his nose.

 _Bloem Huid van Llelies_

"She always wore this damn perfume. Flower Skin of Lilies," Draco smiled sadly, "When I met her for the first time in my seventh year, she was wearing it. It was the best fucking thing I ever smelt."

Draco watched Granger through the mirror. Watching her smile, her eyes staring at the ceiling, "Her grandmother manufactured it as a hobby. She tried to get me to wear once, but I can't stand the smell of lilies. I always preferred-"

" _Jautrusis Musėkautas Tart._ That bloody atrocious thing. You and your obsession of Venus Flytraps astounds me, Granger."

Her laugh was short lived but it made him throw her a small smile. Although she didn't see it- Draco knew that he did a rare thing. Draco watched her enter the room, her purse and coat gone-probably removed by Allestr (if he knew that damn elf and Draco _knew_ him, he would have forcibly removed them from her person.)

Granger traced the fabric of Astoria's dress that was inside a very large box on the settee, "Why didn't you visit me? I like to think we were close, but ever since…Astoria and Scorpius…and the um kiss you have been distant with me and then Belay and you disappear. Just, I was just wondering."

Granger was gnawing her bottom lip, Draco staring at the action. It captured his attention. Moving swiftly, Draco pressed himself against Granger's backside. Moving her hair to the side, Draco watched her carotid move quickly, her shoulders tensing. Placing his mouth near her ear, he sighed into it. Letting his breath tickle her cheek.

"I couldn't see you. All I thought was of the blood you covered me in. I could not, Granger."

Granger turned, raising her face to him, "Draco…"

It was barely audible, her lips barely moving and was watching her. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. Barely noticeable but there.

He was studying her one moment and the next his hand was in her hair and their teeth were hitting each other. She was whimpering and he had his eyes screwed shut. She had untucked his shirt and her hands were running up her abdomen, she was cold and it made him hiss. He removed her shirt, lifting it up, breaking the kiss for a moment before he was on her. Running his tongue over the ridges, he trailed open mouth kisses down her jaw, marking her. His hands unclasped the bra she wore and Draco pulled away watching them give a tiny bounce. They were tinier than what he was used to- Astoria was medium sized and during pregnancy they had grown considerably large, Pansy has large breasts that he, well thoroughly enjoyed. He watched as the dusty pink nipples chilled to the air, hardening under his gaze. Raising a finger, her traced her nipple, Granger silent and watching him. Her lip was between her teeth. Pinching, he rolled her nipple between his fingers, Granger letting out a moan. Draco stifled his own groan, his slacks becoming unbearably tight. Running his hand, he cupped her breast, it barely filled his hand, having to press his hand to fell the nipple against his palm, so taut and warm. Granger slightly pushed his hand away, sinking to her knees. He was momentarily confused before he realized what she was going to do. The zipper opening was loud to his hyper-sensitive ears, he wasn't used to this. Purebloods don't go on their knees. Astoria never wanted to do it and Pansy had huffed at the thought. And she was _Pansy._

When he felt her hand around his cock, he hissed. It had been too long and her hands were fucking freezing. But her mouth wasn't. He looked at her, controlling his emotions and keeping his face calm. Granger would glance at him through her eyelashes while she took him down her throat. Her mouth felt like cavern, surrounding him. She had a small mouth and an equally small throat…and if he didn't get her up, he would come all over mouth.

He grabbed her and pulled her up, his brain telling him to let his seed overfill his mouth until she was choking from the amount. He stared at the brightest witch of their age. She was flushed and she was licking her lips while she looked into his eyes.

They were a clear brown and his were a dark grey.

He whispered inaudibly and Hermione felt the cold air hit her now naked body, watching as Draco pushed her on the bed. She landed with a soft thud and she watched Draco. He was carved from stone, each muscle and scar perfectly carved. It made her whimper and her parts wetter as he slid his hands up her legs-separating her legs. Each of his hands-callused and warm- on each thigh. He watch her slit glisten, almost like a twinkle under the light. With two fingers, he touched her mound. Brown curls catching her juices, becoming such a darker color from the wetness. Draco separated her lips, the pink flesh throbbing, he saw her clit pulsate from her wetness and heartbeat. He circled it once, the gasp he illicit causing his cock to throb harder.

Screw the foreplay.

He dragged her to the edge, until her arse was almost falling off. Wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively, he let the head of him just sit at the entrance of her. Staring hard at Granger. Until her brown hair became a soft straight blonde and her brown eyes became blue. Watched as her face became Astoria's and with a groan he entered her with one forceful stroke. He grabbed her throat, putting light pressure while the other grasped her hip.

He was vice like and Hermione felt him fill her to the brim. It hurt, she hadn't had sex in almost three years unless it was her hand who gave her a mediocre orgasm that left her breathless and irritable.

She was whimpering, feeling everything start to build up. Draco had leaned down, his face now hidden in her neck. Hermione lifting her leg higher and she moaned louder. He was hitting her right in that spot, the spot she only ever read in books. Seen exaggerated in porn films. Merlin bless that spot.

Draco's thrust became forceful and she felt his fingers tightened around her throat. But she could care less because he was his hitting that spot. He was making her wetter by the second and she was leaking, feeling her run down her bottom. His balls hitting against the wet skin causing harsh slaps to resonate in the room. Hermione took a deep breath in as Draco gripped her hip harder, his thrusts more erratic.

"Draco…slow, hurts."

Draco pushed in harder, hitting her in that damn spot and she forgot that Draco was gripping her too tight and that he was just making her feel so _fucking good_.

Hermione gasped and clutched his back, feeling shivers and seeing stars behind her eyelids, she met his thrust more languidly, whimpering out her orgasm wanting it to last. She hummed as she heard Draco spoke, feeling him thrust one more time before she felt the warmness of his seed fill her.

She stilled.

"Astoria. Fuck you feel so good, so tight. Astoria."

She felt the tears before Hermione fully registered that Draco was calling out her dead best friend's-his dead wife's name. His sigh of content against her skin was complete mockery towards her.

"Draco get off me."

Draco grunted at Granger's words. He was confused. She wasn't even letting the high fully come down.

"Granger wait a moment."

"Get off me!" The desperation in her voice caused him to stand quickly, slipping out of her his member soft yet heavy against his thigh. He watched Granger as she cried while putting on her clothes, tears racking her body. She hasn't cried like this since the death of his family.

Almost a year ago.

"Granger-"

"I was so stupid. To remotely think. God, I never want to see you again!"

Draco stood naked in the room, watching her leave. His heart sinking at the utter truth in her words.

* * *

 _'_ The bruises on her neck were an ugly purple. The edges much a _lighter_ purple, but still purple. They were stark against her skin. She leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, the sink pressing uncomfortably into her abdomen. Tracing the bruises, she shivered at her faintest touch.

Has she mentioned she's going to the darkest pit of hell?

Hermione knew he didn't mean to be forceful with her- well at least she hoped not- her hips were sore from where he grabbed her forcefully. She had told him to loosen his grip and he retaliated with harder thrusts-making her whimper into his shoulder. She knew his hand was around her throat, his breath hot against her jaw, her ear still tingled with the groans he let slip out, making her throb harder, she felt so sex crazed. She had tried to keep her pants to a minimum when she saw _it._ It was thick and heavy in her hand, light blue veins decorating his shaft. It was slightly darker color, still pale but she could tell the slight difference in the pigmentation from where it jutted from his body. The hair was normal color blond, almost dirty and coarser a difference against the silk of his hair, it surrounded his member-and trimmed short, which caused her eyebrows to raise. The head was monstrous, such a dark red it looked purple, engorged with blood, and pulling back the foreskin had fascinated her. Watching beads of his fluids slip out from the slit before she placed her mouth over it-she felt dirty now just thinking about it. He was well endowed, he was much thicker than Ron, slightly longer.

She was going crazy. Sooner or later it was going to be Hannah treating her as one of her patients-Merlin what was wrong with her?

Sighing, Hermione returned to her bedroom, watching as Agartha pecked the window again, a letter tied to her foot. She was beautiful owl. Pure black with striking eyes. She had learned to uses every sense much higher for she was blind. Opening the window, Granger gave the bird a treat before she pried the letter open, already knowing the contents:

 _HG,_

 _It has been_ days. _Granger, please. I fully understand the mistake that happened. Let's forget and move on._

 _dM._

She reattached the letter to Agartha's foot, before giving her another handful of treats, sending her off with no reply.

 _I can't just move on, bloody idiot. I'm in love with you._

* * *

 ** _Definitions_**

 _ **Jautrusis Musėkautas Tart** : _Venus Flytrap Tart

 _ **Bloem Huid van Llelies** : _Flower Skin Lilies

 _ **Hiatus Segmenellis** : All Latin{_ Hiatus-Gaping Hole, Pellis-skin, **For the ' _segmene_ ' part I completely forgot the word but once I figure it out, Ill post it**!}

Let me know how you have enjoyed it! Thank you for the many Favorites and Follows! Another long chapter as a gift!

Enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

Harry stared up at the building from his place on the quiet sidewalk. It was cold as hell, the leather jacket doing nothing to keep bay the cold, and all he wanted was to go back to his own flat where he knew Blaise would be at-or if he wasn't available he could call Luna. She was a sweet thing in bed and shy-refreshing thing from Blaise's kinky arse. Feeling his glasses slid lower, Harry scrunched his nose to keep them at their spot. Ron scuffed his boot against the gravel, his hands stuffed in his jacket, pulling it tight against his body. He was silent, he hardly ever talked unless he was home-quitting his Auror job and becoming a stay-at-home dad while letting Daphne work at Hogwarts as a Student Coordinator.

Hermione's flat was in an upscale neighborhood, red bricks and its white frames made it beautiful. Flowers were in well kempt beds on the front lawn, the grass a brilliant green. He knew she was on the third floor, but she had added more wards blocking him and anyone she knew from entering the building. Harry was worried. She had taken a sick leave (really, Rebar forced it on her, forcing her to go a month to properly heal from the dark spell) and then a couple days later before she returned back to work, Hermione sent a letter in saying she was taking her vacation time (this was _Hermione_ they were speaking about-and her vacation time racked up to a month in a half). Harry had found it suspicious, then when he mentioned it to Malfoy who looked like he had better days-the haunting in his eyes reminded him of Astoria's and Scorpius funeral.

It had been raining that day which had been fitting. Luna stood next to him, silent tears running down her tanned cheeks, she had came back from studying endangered dragons in Romania to attend the funeral. Hermione on Luna's other side, was silently sobbing, her hand in Malfoy's. His face was completely blank and he reeked of Firewhisky.

He shuddered at the memory, looking at Ron, he snorted. Ron's pale skin was whiter than usual, the thousands of freckles dotting his face stark against him (he currently rivaled Malfoy's extreme paleness) and the tip of his nose was a shade of red similar to his famous Weasley hair. Harry secretly took out his wand slightly from his sleeve.

" _Pignus Confractio._ " Harry moved his hand in a circle, whispering the spell they use constantly during raids. Hermione was going to kill him but he could care less. He hasn't seen his friend in a while and it was worrisome. He had to drag Ron along, he wasn't used to being outside any longer and _seven_ years of self-conflicted confinement with his children changed a man. Harry knew Ron meant well, a small part of him still loved Hermione. They were each other's first love and if Harry remembered Ron's words " _She's fucking everything to me, mate."_ Then, Hermione's nightmares plagued her and she hardly slept, throwing herself in her studies of the human behavior and psychology. Ron became even more paranoid as an Auror so he drank like rum was the only thing on earth. Harry had joined him, they were best friends, and hey if one were to become a drunk at least they'll be drunk together (This is the type of logic Hermione would slap them behind the head for). They tried to help each other-they were in a bloody _war_ together, talking should have come easily towards each other.

But it didn't. They couldn't formulate words of comfort or ease. Throats would constrict and minds would go blank.

Then one night, Hermione found both of her boys piss drunk and all she could do was laugh. They had lost so much in the war; family, love, dreams, innocence… _hope…the will to continue._

Ron and Hermione broke it off until they could finally get it together, until they felt some resemblance of normal. A one night stand with Daphne Greengrass after another rush of rum and dancing, a rushed marriage-Rose and Hugo Weasley were born. Harry began a torrid affair with Blaise Zabini for months-shockingly, Blaise shamed his wife with asking of divorce and full custody of his son. Harry wasn't ready for becoming exclusive, hell Ginny asked for marriage-telling Harry to pick her over anything or anyone. Harry froze which of course angered Ginny, and she left with the Harpies and never visited unless she had a match in London. He wasn't ready for commitment and if he was, Hermione and Ron knew it would not have been with Ginny-she was his number one fan. He didn't need any more admiration, he needed someone who would kick his arse if he bummed a cigarette, who would argue with him, and showed him what love can really be. Then came along Luna. Scorpius had just been born, Hermione was newly single once again, and Blaise and Harry had sex more times than they all cared to remotely care about. Luna was studying why fairies were going extinct in London-for how long she was staying was unknown. Harry had shared too many details with Hermione of the time they screwed on his desk when she had dropped by to say hello. Harry told Blaise and Blaise had shrugged nonchalantly.

Draco then confided to Hermione on how Blaise confided in him on how torn he really was. How in love he was with Potter who just didn't really _notice_ him.

Hermione felt her heart break for the Slytherin. She knew that feeling too well.

They were a torrid bunch.

* * *

Harry knocked on the glass door of Hermione's apartment. Ron's teeth chattering and the sound of a trumpet the only sound in the hallway. It was warmer in her than the freezing cold outside, he felt feeling in his toes return. Looking at Ron who was blowing puffs of air onto his palm made him snicker. Which in turn caused Ron to flip him off with a sarcastic grin on his face.

"Hermione! Open the door. It's bloody freezing out here." Ron raised his voice, hoping the tiny woman (she was 5'5 - which was an absolute lie, Hermione was 5'4½, but her doctor denied her the 5'5 despite _bloody being 5'4½)_. There was utter silence.

It irked them both. Harry reached for the knob and turned it over. Before fully opening the door, Ron and Harry both took out their wands. Ready to protect themselves. They aren't _that_ stupid.

Door didn't squeak open like it usually did, the apartment complex was too bloody fancy to allow such a thing as doors creaking obnoxiously when it opened slowly. Harry and Ron both trained their eyesight to the witch staring at the ceiling. Books surrounding her body from her position from the floor.

Harry had always loved her flat. It was filled with warm colors and her sofa cushions contorted to your body's natural curves. Encasing them and letting anyone who entered relax and feel safe. If anything it chilled both boys to the bone now as they stood in Hermione's living room.

"'Mione?" Ron's voice was quiet, his fear of finding her dead causing tremors in his hand. His wand falling, the plush carpet muffling its fall.

"I screwed up a lot. I am so fucking scared." Her voice was raw and torn, Harry and Ron looked at each other. There best friend was down, memories of her injured and weakened form after Lestrange's torture kicked them into full gear. They had to help her, she just _healed_.

She couldn't go back.

* * *

Hey all! **This is more of a filler chapter**. The full drama commences in the next chapter. Please remember to check my profile on updates as I am in college and won't be posting in the middle of the night (it's currently 4:01am)! But I promise I will not abandon this story at all costs. If I lag and take more than two days to update, please just PM, I'll get a notif that goes straight to my phone. Alright my little ducklings, enjoy!

 **(P.S THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS AND FOLLOWS AND FAVORITES! I KNOW THIS CHAPTER ISNT AS LONG AS I WANTED IT TO BE BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO RUSH INTO THE PLOT BUT NEVER FEAR! THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LONGER THAN A DROOPING BUM.)**

XO

 **Latin:**

confractio; breach

pignus security


	6. Chapter 6

He remembered the first time she had a nightmare.

Ron was facing Hermione as they laid on the floor, he had been laying for a good fifteen minutes-Hermione longer- and his muscles were cramping. Protesting against the stiffness, of not moving. Harry making her favorite tea in the kitchen. Pu-erh tea (to improve her mental alertness and sharp thinking and to reduce high cholesterol, why Hermione drank the tea confused Harry immensely) -a pang of metal meeting metal the only noise that resonated throughout the flat. A flat that reminded him of the one they shared once. Hermione still had the onyx black overstuffed couch he bought on a whim, a white faux fur throw over the middle. Soft gray, pale rose and stubble grey pillows decorating it. Her favorite smoked walnut colored coffee table had a silver round pan tray on the edge, a vase of pink flowers blooming and three candles-large, medium, and small had pieces of woolen thread around it. They laid on top of a threaded white rug with speckles of grey. Her living room made Ron's inside warm and made his always tensed muscles relax. Ron laid on the rug, softening the hardwood floor against his side whilst he stared at the woman he loves.

His wedding band burned, a gentle sting. Precaution by ancient marriage charms in rushed marriages. Ron blinked at the tears quickly. He couldn't cry because then he would kiss Hermione and whisper the love still held for her. He couldn't. So he stared into her eyes. Her eyes were overwhelmingly clear, no amber or the mud brown he has come to know and love. They were the palest brown he hasn't seen in a while.

He remembered her screams and the tears.

"You've been gone for almost two months, love."

 _Silence_.

Ron remembered, he had arrived back home from Auror training after a long day of studying dark runes and self-preservation fighting. He was sore and every muscle in him ached. He had walked in their flat in wizarding London he and Hermione shared. Hermione was a resident in her behavioral class in some medic university St. Mungo 's funded like money was spewing from their arses. He was tired and all Ron wanted was to see Hermione and hold her. He wanted to take her into their bedroom and throw her on their bed, watching her skin become stark against the white and grey duvet. Wanted to kiss the valley between her breast and kiss the mole under her left breast, run his hands on the expanse of her ribs and stomach and see her laugh and push his hands for making her tickle. Ron wanted to kiss all her white puckered scars she got in the Battle of Hogwarts, trace them and make up more happier, less deathlier stories on how she got them. He would say the small one by her bellybutton was from a botched surgery in the muggle hospitals and not from where a snatcher pressed the knife into her soft white belly because she didn't let them touch her. Ron just really wanted to relish Hermione's touch. Do their routine they have unconsciously done for years; after sitting on their bed, he would remove his boots and he would feel the bed dip. Hermione's cold hands (she had major iron deficiency issues, her body not absorbing iron properly so Ron always injected the iron dextran injections into her butt cheeks, laughing at her hisses. Kissing the back of her neck, relishing in her soft moans) would massage his shoulders and kiss the soft spot behind her ear. He had barely stepped out the Floo when he saw her in the corner of the room, darkness filling the room, but she was there holding her knees to her chest and sobs racking her frame.

She was always the strong one. When he and Harry wanted to stop she told them that we could all do it. That they could do it.

He hardly saw her cry unless she was really angry. Frustration racking her body and letting tears run down her cheeks.

He was at loss. So Ron sat next to her, not touching her but letting her know he was there. Her very pale eyes looking around the room, trying to see if the shadows were snatchers or Death Eaters.

Hermione now had the same look of utter fear and loss in her eyes and Ron still didn't know how to react.

"You got to talk to me. Please? Whatever is going on, I- _we_ can help." Ron touched her jaw softly, tracing the patch of light colored freckles that decorated her skin. He loved that patch as much as he loved the thousands of patches on his chest and back.

"No. You can't." Hermione stood from her place, wincing at the pops her muscles did from protest, "I won't let this ruin me. Ron, please leave. I…I don't want you here to see me." Ron watched as Hermione went to her bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click.

"Don't take it personally, Ron." Harry placed his hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes, Ron sighed.

Standing up, Ron collected his jacket, glancing at the bedroom door once more. Grabbing a handful of the green powder on the fireplace mantle, he turned his face slightly so Harry could hear him better.

"Hermione is going to push you away. She's going to trap herself away from you and she's going to throw herself into work. She's going to make a lame excuse on how this isn't going to work and she's going to shut you out. Do not let her Harry. If you do, we'll lose Hermione for good. Losing her, Harry…it's the second worse feeling in the world."

"What's the first?"

Ron turned at photo on top the mantle. He looked into the steel grey frame protecting the wizarding photograph of them. Ron was swirling her, waves were crashing into the shoreline and Hermione was wearing a beautiful blood red strapless summer dress. They were smiling.

"Watching them bury my brother."

* * *

 _"Ostium Sangsfero?"_

"It is a complete plasma cells, blood, neurons, and basic DNA transplant when the fetus is still in the first trimester. The procedure has a 100% chance of taking full effect during the early onset of pregnancy, we do this during when surrogacy takes a wrong turn or to make adoption will seem I believe real. You are 18 weeks Ms. Granger. We can still do this procedure, although there may be a 65% chance of the stress of the constant spell and potions it may cause the fetus to have decals and go into distress. We, as your doctors _need_ you to be sure."

Hermione looked at her best friend next to her, his hand squeezing hers tightly. The light shone off his glasses, causing the green in his eyes to be striking. The pristine clear white walls and cushion seats they sat on made their dark colored clothes seem out of place. Harry saw tears brimmed, threatening to fall and cascade down her cheeks.

He remembered the complete anger when Hermione told him. He wanted to storm to Malfoy Manor and hex Malfoy until Harry's arm was sore (it would take hours for him to tire out, months and years of constant training for his arm to be sore was a bloody joke). But Hermione's quietness had irked him, he was yelling and cursing violently and when he saw his best friend sitting on the couch, legs under her, she was absolutely quiet. Her eyes watched his every move, Harry knew she was studying him, predicting all his moves before he knew what was going to be his next move. So he did what she didn't expect. He sat next to her ad took her hand. Her jump made him chuckle and he caressed her palm gently. When she whispered the common _semita infanilitatis_ escape from her lips, Harry watched in awe as a neutral beige smoke appear in front of him. Its edges crisp and soft to look like (some smoke that spells and potions created dark edges), watching a dark pink circle that pulsed, a muffled heartbeat that caused Harry to strain his ears to hear.

"I'm four in a half weeks in, five tomorrow. I don't know what to do. I'm lost, Harry."

He held her as she cried, racking his brain on how he could murder Draco and pull connections to make it seem like an accident. Harry knew she didn't love Malfoy. Malfoy was well Malfoy. Grief does the most unimaginable things to the human body. To the mind. It screwed you over making you believe objects were there, that the people you still love were just a touch away. Grief was a powerful emotion, it drove people to become alcoholics and hide it in solitude(Ron), made people lose themselves in sex and the orgasms that came it it(Blaise and Harry), throw others into work so they won't sleep and see blood and death behind their eyelids(George, Hermione, Luna, Draco, and Neville). Others deny (everyone). So Harry rubbed circles on her back as her watched the milk cream colored walls and the frames that decorated it. He played with her hair and cooed into her ear that all will become well.

The next morning, as he stood in her kitchen he wrote his department that he would be taking his vacation time. He needed to be with Hermione. She shouldn't be alone. So he called for the damn elf (it was Kreacher who despised him with a burning passion, so Harry kept him to make the elf's blood boil) to send him clothes. For a solid month in a half, he held her hair as she vomited the toast and tea. Hermione's body shaking and heaving as her magic aura was shifting to accommodate another body in her. Harry got in the tub with her and scrubbed her back and washed her hair as Hermione cried and shook her head in denial. Held her as she cried in his arms, sheets tangled across their limbs and the fireplace roared to help her keep warm stopping her medication for her iron so the baby wouldn't get a placental insufficiency. He carried her to her bedroom when she fell asleep on the couch.

Harry mentioned Dr. Calhoun in a fertility specialist in Romania over dinner of grilled cheese sandwich. Hermione had furrowed her brows but told Harry to get a portkey to visit the doctor. So they did. And she saw them after they mentioned their name. Hermione had sat through and listened about blood transplant. A very controversial topic that made her wince and squeeze Harry's hand harder.

"I'm...sure. The father... I'm sure"

"Okay. So," Dr. Marie Calhoun blotted down in the file of her patient. She knew who they were and how rich she'll become if she were to take the fact Hermione Granger- _the_ Hermione Granger get a blood transplant for a fetus. But she prided herself in her patients' trust. Doctors who wanted a boost in their name for a few seconds of fame angered her. They were doctors for Merlin's sake. They had a duty, "who will the donor be?"

"I will be." Harry's deep voice cause Hermione to sharply look at him, she opened her mouth to say something but her throat was too parched. This was too much, she wasn't going to saddle him with this, "Before you say anything 'Mione, I'm doing this. I'm your best friend."

Hermione nodded.

"Alright. For the sake of time, this procedure takes about an hour-maybe longer. So I'll send in the nurse and you have to sign consent forms and what not."

* * *

"This potion is to relax your body and heart, this one to keep the baby's heart monitored. These two are mixed with Mr. Potter's blood and in turn they will slowly attack the baby's original DNA and plasma and start to replace it with their own DNA. The last one will replace the magic aura and will be the most painful for the baby. I will cast spells to finish the overall transplant."

Hermione laid on the slab of metal, Harry caressing her head as Dr. Calhoun described the potions that were going to be injected into her outstretched arm. Nodding, Hermione watched as the first richly colored red entered her, taking its effect on her immediately. She felt her heartbeat slow down, no longer rushing in her ears, the panic attack that was creating pressure on her chest slowly lifted away. The next one was a calming green vial that made her smile softly at Harry. The next two were a clear white with drops of red swirling-not fully mixing. The last one was a dark black with different colors shining brightly once in a while. First pink, then green, white, blue, red, then black. It burned when it entered with such intensity. It felt like when she accidently picked up the grill after cooking to clean it when she thought it cooled down. Her organs and lower back burned and all Hermione could do was blink as her heart did not race and not a single drop of sweat escaped her pore. Harry whispered stories of their time in Hogwarts and how Luna and Blaise were in the same room and he felt like someone had punched him when he saw the utter look of defeat and heartbreak on Blaise's face.

He distracted her and he was doing a good of a job. _Her best friend was a bloody idiot._

"Something is not right."

Harry tense, if Hermione were to lose the baby, Hermione would throw herself into work and it will be the starvation and dehydration all over again.

"What do you mean?" Harry raised is voice a bit, fear racked his body has turned his head away from Hermione's tears and to see the best fetal surgeon look confusedly into her spell work almost as if she were _confunded._

"I mean, Mr. Potter, that whoever the father of this baby is has very strong blood. It has traces of Veela and micro DNA chromosomes that Purebloods are the only ones that have it. This transplant will not work, Mr. Potter, because instead of your blood and plasma cells attacking the child's. The child's very own DNA is attacking and destroying _yours._ "

* * *

Thank you all for still sticking to the story after a week of radio silence. Life has been hectic but it is the weekend! So enjoy this chapter and remember this story is more angst than romance.! Y!

 _semita infanilitatis:_

infans-baby

fertilitatis-fertility

semita-track

 _ostium sangsfero:_

fetal-Ostium

blood-sanguinem

transplant-TRANSFERO


	7. Chapter 7

**Keep calm my little giblets, Hermione isn't as cold hearted and Draco is as messed up as I write him.**

 **He lost his family and Hermione was his wife's best friend and Scorpius' godmother.**

 **All the anger and sadness he's feeling is being directed onto her.**

 **Now enjoy this chapter of Draco. Lots of action in the next one.**

 **Y!**

* * *

Draco had stopped drinking.

Despite the sweats that racked his body, his stomach flipping as he regurgitated any small thing he ate. His body begging for a drink, but he couldn't bring himself to bring the rim of the bottle to his lips. Letting the amber liquid burn down his throat.

 _Amber._

Draco shut his eyes as he thought of the witch. After he screwed her on the bed he shared with his dead wife, watched as Granger's sobs racked her small frame, throwing on her white ruffled blouse without her bra, it laid by his foot, the pale pink cotton tickling his toes. She hadn't button her slacks, grabbing her shoes and leaving the room. Draco was confused but he knew he hurt her by something he did wrong. He didn't fully understand what he did. He whispered her name in her ear, kissing her jaw and nibbling her earlobe as his thrusts become erratic- feeling her come around his member had made him lose control.

Hermione wasn't the first woman he slept with since Astoria's death. The first one was a week after her death and he watched them bury her in a steel gray coffin, pounds of dirt sounding over the harsh rain that dampened his clothes. After his mother had tried to make him eat, he had thrown the plate of roasted chicken across the grand study room that he was in. His father watched him with his cold and calculating grey eyes from his place on the seat. Draco had turned and saw Astoria's and Scorpius' name and paintings had become skulls on the Malfoy family tree was the last straw. He left the manor and didn't turn back. He went to Knockturn Alley and watched as all the whores flaunted their best assets at him. He was at the best whore house, the patron who kept the girls always had the men get check-ups before they were able to fuck them all the different ways to Sunday. If one of them were to get pregnant, the matron would help the mother to get out the life style and work at the bar and/or put them into schooling.

 _The best whore house._

Draco had chosen a platinum haired beauty, her eyes a deep chocolate brown, and ruby red painted bow lips. He didn't pay attention to her pleasure or her over-exaggerated moans to make him believe she was enjoying it, just closed his eyes and imagined his wife's flesh under him. After racks of pleasure overtook his body, he cried. Shame racked his body as he thought of his wife. The way she would giggle when he kissed the inside of her palm and trace the veins that decorate her skin. Missed the way she was headstrong with his parents on their prejudice views and her friendships with Granger. He just missed his wife and son.

Granger was the closest thing- if not completely that was able to see the dark side of his mind. Her skin was darker than his and Astoria's but she was still pale. A light olive with freckles across her skin that made him want to count each and every dot that made a home onto her skin. The scar on the back of her right shoulder was his favorite. It began from the tip of her shoulder and ended at the end of her scapula. When he had first seen it, she was wearing a bikini Astoria had told her to wear. A deep rich green one suit that had a deep cut on the back. When he had seen it, it blended with her skin. Draco thought it was a trick of his eyes and he traced it without meaning to. Granger had jumped away from him and he shrugged at her nonchalantly.

It was his favorite scar on her.

So when he saw the utter heartbreak in her eyes and her words, Draco knew he made more scars onto the olive skin that stood out against his own. Almost as if he got a dagger and traced her skin with it.

* * *

After the complete silence from Granger for a solid week in a half, he threw himself into work. Taking case after case, Belay's trial not beginning until after they find a free slot to take his case to trial. Draco went on raids and ignored his want for the amber liquid. He took three flights of unused stairs to the psych floor, trying to see if Granger was in her office. Hoping to see the bushy haired witch. At the end of his days when it was time to go home and he didn't see her, his chest ached. Her department ended much earlier but since she was Head of it, her days ended an hour or so later. Even then, she would go to the Auror floor and check on Potter to see if he ate and Blaise if he needed any consultation. When that was done, she would go to his office and just sit quietly waiting for his shift to end and for them to walk to the floor. It was their routine that he liked. They would say their goodbyes and take the separate Floos if she was heading to her flat and him to the manor. Other times, before she could protest, he would grab his hand and throw the green powder into the fireplace, she would huff but go into the sitting room with overflowing books and start reading files.

When Rebar told him of her medical leave he shrugged, determined to forget the witch who took up his mind. He _loathed_ that particular fact. His wife and son were gone for now a year and Hermione had become his rock. A rock he very much wanted to kick to the shoreline, but if he did he would stub his toe. She left him and didn't answer his letters. He did nothing wrong. They had sex and she left crying as if he hurt her. She was the one in the wrong.

Draco took even more raids and went to bars with Blaise and with Pansy if she got away from her overbearing husband. He didn't drink, he ordered a firewhisky and watched the two meticulous ice cubes melt before he stood up and declared to his two childhood friends he was leaving. Went to his home and slept in his new bedroom that didn't have the lingering smell of Astoria. No longer in the North wing. His room and office now moved to the South wing where guest rooms used to occupy.

He was waiting for his lunch to arrive when he heard the gossip. Writing up reports that needed to be given to Potter at the end of the day that were due over a week ago.

 _"Did you hear?"_

 _"No, what someone else died?"_

 _"No, silly. Dr. Granger took her vacation leave. She's lucky she's one of_ the _war heroes. Gone for a month and now going to be gone another solid month. Huh."_

He took his first sip of firewhisky then. And he threw it all back up over his Persian rug- his father's favorite bloody rug. He hated the damn weeks that followed were a blur. He felt as if he were under the Imperius curse. He went to work, did raids and fought Death Eaters that were trying to bring back Lord Voldemort's legacy. He ate when Allestr reminded him he had already gone two days by just drinking water and just eating half a green apple. Granger had always been on top of his eating habits after their deaths. Making sure he took enough bites.

He visited his favorite whore house and got the same blonde whose hair was now cut short. He took her on her knees and grabbed her hips. Reverting from tugging her hair and putting pressure on the back of her neck. When he felt her walls fluttering and a long moan filled the room, he let his impending release take over. He pulled out of her and looked at her shoulder to see if a scar would miraculously appear. When it didn't he stormed out after paying a good amount of galleons to the patron.

* * *

He was laying on the sofa, watching the solar system that his son loved so much. Stars glittered across the room and the sun shone brightly. He was calm. He put Granger to back of his mind, visited the whore (whose name was Lilah) and took his department by storm as interim Head Auror. Potter taking his vacation time and still no sign of the witch. So he smiled and stared at the shooting stars and the Scorpius constellation. His heart panged as he thought of his son. With soft cheeks and his mother's pout, he was a Malfoy with his pale skin and white blond hair. And the grey eyes. Draco still had a hard time staring at his eyes in the looking glass. If he stared to long he feared he'll see his son.

His finger twitched heavily and Draco looked down. The Malfoy ring glowing a dark menacing green. He stood up, sensing the spell for the solar system fall away, the bright lights now giving away to the dim candle lights.

Draco racked his brain why the ring was glowing, the solid _M_ crest surrounded by snake scales stones made him wince. The last time it shone this brightly was when the Malfoy heir was in trouble.

When Scorpius was dying in his room just across the other side of the manor.

 _Why would my ring glow?_

* * *

 **Also I made some mini micro changes in the last chapter so dont forget to check that out!**


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione kissed Harry's cheek, his stubble tickling her skin and lips gently. She had only a few days before she had to return back to work, so she wanted to look over the files Hermione told Blaise to drop off in her mailbox, Harry's lover mumbling of how much of a basket case she was before telling her that he was there for her. _Slytherins._ They had stayed in Romania for two extra days to see if the transplant would hold, but each time Harry's DNA didn't take a grip, Draco's blood overpowering. Always heading back to the motel room in defeat and a minor feeling of relief in Hermione. Hermione had given up and told Harry that she wanted to tell Draco, to at least get his reaction, give him a chance but Harry... she was just so tired. All she wanted was a cup of tea and rest for a very long time.

They had gone to a park where big thick luscious green fir trees blocked the sky. The dew of the morning fog still clung heavily on the rich colored grass, soft and pliable under their weight. It was a clear day, no clouds or any threat of rain as well as the sun blaring brightly against any surface its rays were able to touch. Harry had taken out the portkey; a red and silver ring with no jewel on it. It was bland yet stunning. The metal's reflection-a beautiful red with silver swirls landed on Hermione, awestruck at its beauty. When she touched it, the clock had struck its fourth hour, and with a tug on her belly Hermione and Harry were in an alley two blocks away from her building.

Now as she wished Harry goodbye outside her flat door, she knew who was waiting for her, as her wards alerted her of a minor breach right after they wished the good doctor goodbye. A person she has allowed in the past constantly was now in her living room sitting on her beloved onyx couch. Hermione didn't tell Harry, she knew if she told him all of Harry's frustration about the whole situation will lead to a duel and a whole lot of case of obliviating, and she wasn't in the mood of writing up reports. She needed to talk to him and she needed to do it alone. So as Hermione kissed Harry's cheek, taking a deep breath of his cologne, she refused him entry.

"You shouldn't be alone, you're still adjusting." His voice was deep with tension, the tight muscles of his shoulders carried his tension, each tendon bouncing with each word. His jaw tight and his lips were set in a grim line as he stared at her.

"No. I've already adjusted after the first failure." Hermione rubbed his chin with her thumb,"Go wash up and shave. Love you."

His quiet I love you too reached her ears as she entered her home. The soft click was muffled as she laid against glass door. Hermione's eyes roamed her living room and felt her flesh become puckered. She hadn't laid eyes on him for quiet a while and he was even more handsome than before. He was neatly dressed in his Auror uniform, the top buttons undone against his neck as he laid back against the sofa in leisure. His hair had grown over the months since Astoria's death, and now was tied neatly with (she was sure dragon hide, Malfoy men really do love their dragon hide. Which Hermione knew was illegal to obtain) leather strap against the nape of his neck. His grey eyes were looking at her and Hermione could feel them burning a hole onto her. Hermione couldn't tell if he was angry at her. Draco was always good at hiding his emotions with her after the many times she read him. He despised it with a passion and guarded himself around her.

Hermione shook off her flats by the door, the carpet massaging her tired soles. She had been up on her feet non stop and all she wanted to do was sit and hopefully not pass out. Not meeting Draco's eyes, Hermione sat on the opposite side of her sofa, tucking her legs underneath her and clutching the rose pillow against her abdomen, they were silent for a while. Her shoulders felt heavy as Draco leaned forward, his elbows resting on his kness and hands clasped. His voice was deep and her heart lurched at the comforting baritone, yet her skin felt taut at his words.

"I did not peg you as one who hides a pregnancy, Granger."

Hermione sighed, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes. They were blank, but the little twitch in his jaw tuned her in that he was beyond angry... an angry Draco was going to make her even more restless. She didn't know how to deal with his anger, he has always been a vocal type. His neck becoming red and his muscles straining with the vibration that it carried.

Hermione sat on the opposite side of the couch, the plushness a comfort to her sore back. She had begun to show already despite being three-months. Racking her head on what was wrong, Harry had laughed at her, saying it was _normal when you show early or late._ Now as she wiggled her toes under her, her blouse pressed against the slight swell in her belly. Hermione felt her throat clog when she saw Draco's eyes narrow at it.

"It wasn't my intention. I thought it would be best if I didn't tell you."

His sharp laughter echoed in her living room, his magic aura pulsating around her, feeling her flesh tense and raise.

"Wish I didn't know now, Granger.", he looked at Hermione. Reaching in his slacks and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a wave of his hand the smoke reached her nostrils and she tensed at the scent. She forgotten how much she missed cigarettes and Draco's words were making her crave one and a very strong drink.

 **hey all, sorry for this update being short but The next following will be when it starts picking up pace, this is a filler. Please read my profile for I have updated. Thank you.**

 **xo**


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